


Across the Line

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-22
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After an argument, a drunk Ron shows up at Harry's flat.





	Across the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Harry heard the familiar crackle of someone apparating into his flat. He groaned and turned to read 12:30 am on the clock next to his bed. He stilled and listened for more revealing sounds. The sound of the kitchen cupboard opening and closing immediately told him the identity of his midnight visitor. He got out of bed, knowing an angry and drunk redhead was sitting in the kitchen, drinking what was left of his firewhiskey.

Ron sat down in the dark and poured a full glass of firewhiskey. He quickly knocked it back. As he poured the second glass, he heard the bed creak and knew Harry would be standing before him in seconds. He lowered his head and waited.

When he heard the nearby shuffling, Ron looked up, sighed and shook his head at the sight of a bedraggled looking Harry standing shirtless in the doorway.

”How pissed are you?” asked Harry.

He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Pissed enough to say what I’ve got to say, but not enough to have forgotten it in the morning.”

Harry didn’t completely enter the kitchen; he only leaned against the doorway. “So, you’re here to apologize?” he asked hopefully, but his expression showed doubt.

The two of them had been at The Leaky Cauldron earlier in the evening in an attempt to have a male bonding session that didn’t end with one of them getting a black eye. An argument had occurred, but Harry disapparated before a punch could be thrown - by either of them.

“No,” replied Ron. “I don’t even remember what started the argument.”

“Me neither,” responded Harry.

Ron drained the second glass of alcohol while staring peculiarly at Harry. The intense gaze unnerved him and he shifted his weight nervously. “Harry, do you ever think about why we argue so much lately?” He gestured the bottle toward Harry. Harry declined the offer by shaking his head and mouthing ‘no’.

“Do you?” asked Ron insistently.

“Not really,” Harry replied feebly. The situation was making him uncomfortable. Ron never wanted to talk about their arguments. They would go a few days (the longest had been a week) without speaking, and when they resumed contact, both pretended as if nothing had happened.

“No, I don’t either,” Ron said pointedly. Harry let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“But,” Ron added, “tonight something happened.”

Harry moved to lean against the opposite wall. “Yeah and what was that?” he said in a slightly bitter tone.

Ron inclined back in his chair. “See, it’s like this. We had this rhythm going. It was simple. You, me, and Hermione did everything together. She did all the thinking for us. Then she went and got her own life, leaving us to think for ourselves.”

“Is there a point to this?” asked Harry, sounding very annoyed.

Ron leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. “I never did much thinking, but I knew things, ya know?”

“No,” said Harry bluntly.

“Sure you do,” said Ron. He stood up and moved around the table, keeping Harry in his line of vision. “I always knew what you needed. I never thought about it. I just knew. I knew what you needed to get over Sirius. I knew you couldn’t kill Pettigrew, because he was your father’s friend. That’s why I did it for you.”

Ron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I knew you needed to be alone after you killed Voldemort,” he continued. “So, I didn’t try to find you until you were ready to come back to us. If I didn’t think Divination was pure rubbish, I would believe I had a bit of Seer in me, because I always knew what you needed without ever thinking about it.”

Harry was focusing on his index finger as he twirled the string of his pajama bottoms around it.

A thin sheen of sweat formed on Ron’ forehead and he wiped it with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Ron, I -” Harry stopped as Ron took a step forward. He took a hasty step back in response.

“But the thing is, Harry, just like a real Seer, I can’t see when it has to do with me.”

“F-finally. You’re admitting that it’s your fault we argue.” Harry said, unable to hide the uneasiness in his voice.

Ron’s only response was his unrelenting intense glare. It was so quiet; the only sound Harry could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.

“You’re not making any sense, you prat,” said Harry lightheartedly.

Ron began walking towards Harry. “It’s okay, mate. I know.”

Restraining himself from acting on the urge to turn, run, and lock his bedroom door, Harry slowly spun on his heels and causally walked away. “You’re drunk. I’m tired and going to bed.”

For being under the influence of alcohol, Ron showed an extreme amount of dexterity moving from the kitchen to jump directly ahead of Harry within the tight confines of the hallway.

“Ron,” said Harry in a pleading voice. “Just let me go to bed.”

“No,” Ron growled. “Enough. It’s been three years. You killed him three years ago! It’s time to stop hiding what you need.”

“I -” Ron clamped his hand over his friend’s mouth.

“It’s been over a year since you broke up with Ginny. What did you tell me the night you ended the relationship?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t remember,” he mumbled into Ron’s palm.

“Yes, you do. You told me she didn’t give you what you needed. Then you laughed and said it would help if you knew what you needed.”

Ron knew he was close to the line. The invisible line they had drawn between each other and didn’t dare cross. He saw the uncertainty in Harry’s eyes turn to anger. That’s what they always did. They would get close to this and then they would turn their fear into anger and lash out at each other. Rather than do what they really needed to do.

Ignoring his own fears, Ron removed his hand from Harry’s mouth, and grabbed him by the shoulders. “I know what you need, Harry.”

Harry’s arms shot up between them and pushed Ron’s arms out to the side. “This is ridiculous! Why are you bringing up ancient history?”

“But it’s not. Is it? You still haven’t gotten what you need.”

Harry crossed his arms belligerently across his chest. “Yeah, well what is that?” He was so caught up in his anger that he forgot he was terrified of the answer to his question.

They were so close Ron could feel the heat radiating from Harry’s cheeks. Yet, he moved a half step closer, over the line. With his eyes locked on Harry’s he said firmly, “You need a good fuck.”

Harry’s eyes opened wide in shock. “W-w-what?” he sputtered.

“You heard me,” said Ron defiantly. “Fucked. Shagged. Buggered up the arse. Screwed. Pounded into the mattress.”

Ron held his stance, as Harry attempted to push him out the way. “You’re a nutter!” Harry shouted. “Get out of my way!”

In a swift and unexpected move, Ron shoved Harry against the wall, holding him still by pressing his hand into his chest.

“Oi, Ron!” Harry yelped.

Taking advantage of Harry’s surprise, Ron pressed his chest against Harry’s and whispered in his ear. “You know I’m right. You need to be fucked Harry Potter.”

Ron’s voice was deep and raspy and Harry couldn’t hide the shudders that rippled through his body as the sound vibrated against his sensitive ear.

Ron knew any hesitation on his part would give Harry time to react. Harry would put a stop to it and push Ron back behind the line. He grabbed a fistful of Harry’s untamed hair and pulled his head back, exposing his slender neck. With the tip of his tongue, he licked the thick, light blue jugular vein protruding from Harry’s skin.

“Ron,” Harry croaked. “Stop. It’s not like I’ve never-”

“I know what you have and haven’t done,” interrupted Ron, muttering into the soft spot of flesh where Harry’s neck met his shoulder. His hands roamed over Harry’s bare chest. “And…you’ve…never…” he said, moving his lips back up to Harry’s ear and nibbling the earlobe before he continued, “been fucked within an inch of your sanity. Fucked so hard that you forget your own name.”

Harry put both hands on Ron’s shoulders and lightly tried to push him away. “Ron, please.” It came out close to a sob.

Ron didn’t cease the assault on Harry’s neck and ear. He knew the plea wasn’t because Harry wanted him to stop; it was because he didn’t.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this. You started getting hard the second you hit the wall. I don’t have to look down or press against you to know that you’re hard as a rock.”

To prove that he was right, Ron slowly moved his hips closer to Harry, stopping when he was only faintly touching Harry’s erection with his own. He held his breath, hoping he had made the right move. Checkmate! Harry pushed his hips forward, thrusting against Ron.

A gasp escaped Harry’s throat, surprised by his own action. Ron didn’t give him a chance to think about what he had done. All Harry could think about were the fingers digging into his arse cheeks, urgently pushing him forward, and the tongue that was lightly tickling the fine hairs on his ears.

Ron was growing frustrated. Harry’s hands rested lightly on Ron’s hips and except for a few hushed, involuntary gasps, he remained speechless.

Grabbing Harry’s hips, Ron spun him around to face the wall. He seized Harry’s wrists and forced him to place his palms against the wall, level with his head.

Ron rubbed Harry’s chest, lightly grazed the nipples, and smiled when he felt Harry’s heart pounding against his hand. “I can feel your heart, Harry. It knows, too.”

Biting Harry’s shoulder to distract him, Ron loosened the tie of his pajama bottoms and they fell to Harry’s ankles. Visible shivers traveled down Harry’s spine as the cool air hit his freshly exposed penis. The sudden feeling of vulnerability caused doubts to begin invading his mind. They were quickly squelched as soon as Ron’s large, warm hand embraced his cock and began pumping him with deliberate, firm strokes.

Distraction and the element of surprise seemed to be working in Ron’s favor, so he continued using the same tactics. Keeping his mouth moving along Harry’s shoulders and one hand caressing his erection, he shoved the other hand in his jeans pocket, and pulled out a tube of lubricant. Holding it tightly and without looking at it, he used his thumb to twist off the cap.

If Harry had been thinking, he would have expected what was coming next. But he wasn’t thinking. That was a good thing, because the thought of Ron’s slick finger sliding between his arse cheeks would have had him running naked into the street. When it actually did happen, the feeling was so intense, all he did was clench his fist and curl his toes.

Ron fondled Harry’s cock as he made delicate circles around Harry’s tight, puckered hole with his index finger.

In a rough voice and with his lips close to, but not touching, Harry’s ear, Ron spoke in a seductive tone, “This is what you need, Harry.” And then he slid one finger into Harry. “You think you don’t deserve this. You do! You deserve to have someone inside of you, not because it’s just tight and hot, but because they need to be surrounded by you.” He pulled the first finger out and slipped two fingers back in. “You deserve to feel someone that can’t get deep enough into you… because what they really want is to crawl inside of you.” He added a third finger, stretching, and massaging slowly. “Someone inside you, because it…” Ron paused. “It completes them to be a part of you.”

A smile spread across his face when he removed his fingers and Harry released a moan that sounded primal and desperate.

Ron swiftly lowered his pants, only far enough to expose himself, and returned one hand back to Harry’s erection. One-handedly, he poured lubricant on his own cock and then threw the tube on the floor. As he covered himself with the gel, he shoved a leg between Harry's and stretched them apart. He couldn’t take it anymore; he had to be inside of Harry. He increased the pressure on Harry’s cock as he guided his own towards Harry’s entrance. He pushed inward slightly, feeling the flesh give, and for a moment hesitated, wondering if he had forced this too quickly.

“Harry?” he said softly.

Harry lowered his chin to his chest. “Yes, please,” he moaned.

Harry thought for a moment that he might have passed out. He had been knocked unconscious many times, and the feeling when regaining consciousness was the same feeling he experienced as Ron was gradually entering him. He felt like he had been hung upside down for hours and then suddenly switched upright. His vision was unfocused, his blood tingled as it coursed through his veins, and there was an ache in the pit of his stomach that was moving its way up his chest. Resting his forehead against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to steady himself.

After the burning sensation passed, and Harry could feel nothing but Ron buried deep inside of him, the ache in his belly turned to warmth and spread throughout his body. Ron was inside of him. Hard. Very hard. And wanting. Harry believed he could smell the want discharging out of Ron’s pores like sweat.

Ron removed his hand from Harry’s rigid cock and Harry bit his lip hard to stifle a whimper over the loss. Ron placed his hands on Harry’s hips to hold him still. He began fucking him with deliberate and forceful strokes, pulling almost all of the way out, and pushing back in as deep as he could.

Studying Harry’s back - each muscle, the curve of his spine, the light dusting of dark hair that adorned his lower back, the two dimples carved into the cleft in his skin at the base of his spine - kept Ron from shattering into a million pieces. He had wanted this for so long. Needed it. Craved it. He tried not to think of the other men he had shagged, always with his eyes closed, so he could imagine it was Harry.

Realizing that Harry was wanking himself, Ron seized Harry’s hand and placed it back against the wall, holding both hands with his own.

“No,” he commanded. “Just this. I only want you to feel this.” He emphasized his statement by pushing his cock into Harry all the way to the hilt and twisting his hips.

Harry’s breath squeezed out of his throat in a cracked and quivering groan

It seemed to Harry like it was all happening in slow motion. Ron rubbed against his prostate and wave after wave of delicious feeling rolled over him, to the tips of his toes. With each of Ron’s vigorous thrusts, his cock jolted, and brought a stab of pleasure to it that spread through his groin. He was panting and clutching frantically at Ron’s fingers that had intertwined with his own.

Sweat was dripping from Harry’s neck and Ron licked and sucked at it, savoring the salty, intimate taste of Harry. Ron was thankful for the influence the alcohol had on his body. Had he been completely sober, he would have come immediately after Harry began rocking his hips back and forth. He was trying to persuade Ron to fuck him faster, but Ron kept control and continued his hard and slow strokes. Harry was muttering feverish words, and Ron struggled to understand what he was saying.

A tingling, more intense than he had ever felt before, began at the base of Harry’s spine. Instead of spreading and pushing his orgasm out of his body, it slowly built up, and hovered right at the peak. It hung there, and just as Ron had promised, he felt as if he was going to go insane if he didn’t come.

“Ron… please… please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” he cried, plunging his upper body forward and his hips back, desperate to get more of Ron inside of him.

Harry was struggling to get his hands free. Ron took pity on him and released his hands, moving his own back to Harry’s hips. Ron was shocked when Harry didn’t reach for himself, but instead reached behind him and grabbed Ron’s hips. Harry’s fingers dug into Ron’s flesh urging him to fuck him faster. Satisfied that he had succeeded in pushing Harry over his breaking point, Ron obliged, plunging into Harry faster.

The couple’s arms were crossed, desperately clinging to each other, and calling out to each other between curses and pleas.

Harry toppled over the peak first, throwing his head back on Ron’s shoulder, groaning and trembling. He continued to cling to Ron’s hips, not only because he was afraid his legs would give out on him, but he wanted to feel Ron when his orgasm hit him. He silently wished he could turn around, so he could see Ron’s face when it did.

It took all of Ron’s will power not to come when Harry did. Harry screamed Ron’s name and his muscles clenched around his cock so tightly that it almost ripped the orgasm from his body. He held back, because he wanted to enjoy the sight of ecstasy that covered Harry’s face. Ron had thought the look on Harry’s face as he was coming was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, until he saw the look that followed. Harry’s head remained resting on his shoulder, his eyes were closed, and his lips slightly opened with a faint curve of a smile. It was a look of pure contentment. It pushed Ron over the edge, and as his orgasm hit him, he slid his arms around Harry’s waist and hugged him tightly against his body.

With Harry still in his arms, Ron took a few steps backward, until he felt the wall against his back. He lowered himself and Harry to the floor. Both men sat there, limp, and winded.

Ron began to feel embarrassment creeping out of his thoughts and into his face, heating his cheeks and ears. He had no idea where he had found the strength to be so uncharacteristically bold towards Harry. Allowing himself to question his actions opened a door to a more pressing issue – was Harry still his friend?

Ron cleared his throat. “Harry,” he said in a quiet tone. “I don’t know what came over me. I, uh, I didn’t plan on this happening. And I-” He halted his impromptu speech when Harry pulled himself onto his knees, twisted around to face him, and tilted back, resting his arse on his knees.

Harry placed his index finger over Ron’s lips. “Sssshhhh…” he whispered. He captured Ron’s lower lip between his index finger and thumb. He pulled the bottom lip out tenderly and smirked at the look of surprise on Ron’s face.

Harry leaned forward placing his hands on the floor next to Ron’s arse. Ron opened his mouth to speak, and Harry took the opportunity to press his lips against Ron’s. Because Ron wasn’t the only one that knew things. Harry knew what Ron needed. Ron was quick to respond to the kiss and accepted Harry’s tongue into his mouth. Harry glided his tongue around Ron’s tongue. Gently caressing it. Making love to it. Harry moved his palm to rest against Ron’s jaw. Cupping it lovingly.

And when he finally broke the kiss, he returned the favor and gave Ron, not only what he needed, but also what he deserved. The truth. He told him that he loved him, not once, but twice. Ron had walked across the line first and Harry needed him to know that he wanted him to stay.

FIN


End file.
